Page 49 of Foul & Fake
We could’ve been great.
We could’ve gone the distance.
But here we are.
Groaning, I take another bite of the donut I splurged on and walk to the next store down. I don’t need anything, but mindless window shopping was supposed to keep my mind off of Elias and the decisions I have ahead of me. It’s not working, but if men can gaslight me all day every day, I can gaslight myself too. I’m just clearly not as good at it as they are.
Still, I let my mind wander to other things as I look at skirts I don’t have the ass for, shoes I’d trip and fall in, shirts I think would look cute on me. And then I focus on my future, browsing outfits I can wear once I’m actually an investigative journalist traveling the world uncovering mysteries, fraud, and crimes against humanity. I wonder if the blouse I’m looking at comes in a bulletproof version.
Probably not.
But that’s what matters here. My future. Not Elias, not us or we or whatever the hell. My future. While the rest of my classmates will be turning in articles about lead paint in the houses on Fifth Street or the health issues associated with red dye 40, I’ll be uncovering the illegal hazing rituals that have had Northgate’s soccer players in a chokehold for over a decade. Change will happen. I’m sure of it.
Unless I turn in the backup article I wrote, that is.
Wincing, I tell the nice lady trying to help me that I’m just browsing and mentally berate myself for even thinking about the spare. I’m going with the hazing article and that’s final, no matter how many times I pull the one about sidewalk safety out of my laptop’s recycling bin. I should delete it again when I get home and stick to my guns. This is my chance to get back athim, to remind these stupid men that I live in the time of Hillary Rodham Clinton, and we no longer bow to anyone.
Exiting the store, I exhale hard and start walking back to campus. I wandered a little far this time, almost two full miles from my dorm, but that’s what happens when I can’t stand to be alone with my thoughts. Picturing the devastation on Eli’s face when he finds out about the article used to bring me sick, twisted joy, and now it just makes my chest ache. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to play these ridiculous back-and-forth games to see who can one-up the other, hurt the other more. I want to be happy. I want to turn around, buy a cute pair of underwear, then show up at Eli’s house wearing nothing but those, my glasses, and a trench coat like the classics. He’ll let me in with stars in his eyes, I’ll slowly take the coat off and let it fall to the ground, and he’ll kiss me like he loves me.
Like I’m something worth keeping.
Like I’m someone he’d never, ever hurt.
That little fantasy hurts more than I thought — so much that I almost didn’t hear the stick snap behind me. Freezing, I listen closer as I hone in on my surroundings. There are almost no people here in the park this time of night. I shouldn’t be here either, but it’s the quickest path back to campus and I windowshopped a little too hard. So maybe it was an animal? Twirling in a circle, I try to spot someone, something, anything in the dark and come up short.
Maybe that was my imagination, too.
But as I keep walking, I see a shadow behind me. One shaped like a man, a tall man, and as I walk faster, he walks faster, too.
I’m being followed.
Panicking, I pull my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and call Elias. When he answers, I don’t even let him get out a greeting before I yell, “I’m being followed! The park, east side. There’s a man behind me. Where are you?”
“I’m on campus,” he replies, his voice low like he’s around other people. “What are you wearing?”
Good to know he’s super worried about me. “What’s it matter?” I hiss back. “It’s fucking December, I’m wearing a goddamn winter coat.”
“So I can know what I’m looking for, asshole,” he hisses, and I notice the footsteps behind me get a little louder. “Why are you alone?”
“Because…” I consider lying, but if the psycho following me murders me, I don’t want a lie to be the last thing out of my mouth. “I just needed to think so I went for a walk and took it too far.”
“Poor baby’s got a lot on her mind,” a deep voice calls from behind me, and my heart stutters in my chest.
“Who the fuck was that, Riley?” Eli’s voice echoes through the phone and I freeze for the briefest of moments.
Not fucking today.
“Eli, I hope you’ve got bail money because I’m about to beat a man to death in a public park.” My heart hammers hard and violently as I spin around, but there’s no one there. All I see are a few scattered trees, a trash can, and a swing set.
Is this all in my head?
All I know is that either way, I’m not sticking around to find out.
It’s time to run.
Chapter 20
Her Hero
